


“I miss your arms around me.”

by BillieBleu



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Fluff, Longing, Love, M/M, Yearning, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBleu/pseuds/BillieBleu
Summary: Sander is spending his first night alone in bed, back home for the very first time since the night at the hotel (followed by his stay at the hospital, his night on the floor of the Academy, and then the blissful few days at Robbe’s, making him forget the previous 10 days and their woes).Now he is on his own. Which means a lot of tossing and turning and missing his baby bird Robbe.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 10
Kudos: 273





	“I miss your arms around me.”

Sander was lying in his own bed for the first time in a long time. After his Mom had met Robbe, and even though she seemed to like him and trust him, she still insisted that Sander come home. After 2 weeks of hospital beds, sleeping bags, and then the safety of Robbe’s arms which had managed to make him forget the previous 10 days, Sander had to accept that his Mom had a point. Anyways, Robbe was moving back with his own mother. So they wouldn’t have been able to continue living together like that. And Robbe was so very happy to go home with his mother. When he talked about her, he looked like a baby bird, and it made Sander’s heart flutter. In those moments, he was reminded both of how young Robbe was, and how strong he could be. And he fell in love with him again.

In any case, there he lay. In his own bed. In his own room. Yet nothing really felt like it was his anymore, not even himself. He now belonged, if not to Robbe, then with him, next to him, forever. Part of him loved it. Loved loving Robbe, loved having found him, loved the obviousness of it all. And part of him hoped this feeling would pass. This feeling of not being in the right place, this feeling of something missing next to him. How everything around him now reminded him of Robbe. His clothes, his shoes, his sketchbook and the drawings on his wall, Robbe’s gift, all the Bowie songs he could think of. It all led back to Robbe. Sander knew he could just call or text. He knew, he was certain now, that he’d see Robbe again. That this wasn’t all just a dream. So he tried to find comfort in that. He breathed in and out slowly, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

A few minutes later he was tossing and turning. Wondering if he should switch on the light, get some work done for school. No. If he should listen to some music. No. If he should go and get a glass of water. No. Or, he could just text Robbe. See if he was up. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough, that even if Robbe was up and they talked, it would only make him miss him more. Why? If he knew he would be seeing him again very soon, that he could just talk to him right now, and that he would spend many more nights with Robbe, then why couldn’t he sleep? Why could he feel this buzz right under his skin, this feeling that was part-ache and part-unrest?

And then he got it. It wasn’t (just) Robbe he was missing. It wasn’t just about talking to him. It was Robbe’s body that his own body was missing. It was Robbe’s delicate skin and soft hair, the obviousness of Robbe’s arms around him, of Robbe’s hands cupping his face, Robbe’s warm breath against his skin. The burning intensity in Robbe’s eyes when he looked at him, like he’d hung the moon or something. Robbe’s quiet moans and purrs. How much he craved touching, driving Sander crazy. The smell of him, having become synonymous with home and comfort. Robbe’s necklace tickling him when they were in bed. Being behind him, under him, on top of him, with him - the feeling of his body existing to mirror another, to react to another, in synchronicity. He missed being able to hang on to him to chase the bad thoughts away, being able to look at him, to kiss him. He missed the touch.

That was what he missed. He’d never realized before that the hard part about missing someone wasn’t missing their mind, themselves, it was missing their body. And the thought that he was not going to spend every single night from now on sharing Robbe’s bed made the ache in his chest excruciating. Just anticipating all those nights without Robbe lit a fire inside of him, of yearning and longing. As if he hadn’t just spent almost a full week with him. So finally, he gave in. He had tried not to text him, because he didn’t want to bother him. He knew deep down this was completely unreasonable and irrational. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. No, he didn’t want to hold it in. As for everything he felt towards Robbe, something inside him made him want to, if not shout it on rooftops, at least tell him. He reached out for his phone. He tried to find the right words. 

In the end, he simply wrote: “I miss your arms around me 😢”

Just doing that made him feel a bit better, oddly. A second later, his phone vibrated in his hand. Robbe was calling. As he answered, Robbe’s little face looked back at him with a half-smile that said he was part empathetic, part swooning, part exasperated. And as he asked “what’s going on?” Sander thought he could cry, with longing and relief.


End file.
